The Vigilante
by arcadiablitz
Summary: Vash Zwingli is a vigilante of sorts who is rather famous with the shadier crowds of the town he resides in. When he discovers his younger sister, Elise Vogel, is being targeted, he will stop at absolutely nothing to stomp down his enemies and protect his darling sibling.


**The Vigilante **

**Introduction **

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The sound of gunshots echoed and bounced along the grime-layered brick walls of the old part of town, followed soon after by pained walls and shrieks of terror. Vash's footsteps thundered along the pavement as he rushed as fast as he could toward the sounds, his trusty gun by his side and his expression determined. Another gunshot rang out and the blond man could hear innocent people pleading, tugging at his heartstrings. He broke out into a run when the sounds no longer resonated and he could hear sadistic chuckles like someone was right beside him.

He turned 'round a sharp corner of an old, abandoned building, flipping his gun into his hands and his sweaty fingers poised on the trigger. He pointed it straight at his target—a young man who looked to be in his twenties, clad in dark clothing with his attention focused on reloading his gun to continue slaughtering the helpless people cornered by him. Vash smirked and pulled the trigger, the bullet flying out—unfortunately, the man moved a little too fast, and the bullet could only nick his shoulder, resulting in a strangled yelp from him as he fell onto his knees. The people before the murderer gasped, backing further into the alley dead-end they were trapped in.

"Toxic Syndrome?" Vash queried gruffly, his gun focused on the man's head. The man trembled violently and shakily nodded, whimpers escaping from his throat.

"P-please don't kill me," he begged, lifting his hands up off the ground and away from his gun to show surrender. Vash slanted his eyes and gazed at the dead bodies on the ground by the few left standing alive.

"I don't take pity on gang members, much less murderers," he harshly informed the frightened man. "You should know I have no tolerance from this, seeing as how I've run into quite a few of your comrades." The man's body wracked with sobs, his salty tears staining the asphalt. "You know how well those encounters turned out, don't you? Like I said, I don't feed pity to heartless killers."

"I-I didn't…"

"Silence." He pulled the trigger and the bullet went through the man's head, instantly killing him as he fell to the side, forever silenced. Vash let out a disgruntled sigh and fastened the gun to the side of his belt that held his jeans, stomping over to glance over the corpse. Sure enough, there was the familiar symbol imprinted on his upper left arm in a deep purple, resulting in a disappointed scoff from the blond man.

"Ignorant fools…" he muttered, standing up and giving the body a light kick. He then remembered the scared citizens back in the alley corner and lifted his head to gaze at them. Four of them were on the flour, dead, and only three were left alive, faces a sickly pallid shade and eyes staring in fear at him while their lips quivered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. "You're safe now." One sighed out with extreme relief, her body still shaking like something was going on in her brain.

"Th-thank you, m-mister," she stammered, lifting up her face to show glistening tears sliding down her face. "I…I can't thank you enough, b-but…"

"A-Anya! Don't thank him, he just _murdered _a man!" the other woman who had short, feathery platinum-blond hair matching the other girl's hissed through her clenched teeth. Vash heard it and scowled.

"It's no problem, miss," he said aloud to Anya, ignoring the other lady's statement. "It's my job to protect the people around here, and you three are no different." The short-haired girl gaped at him and the one boy who'd been left alive, an olive-skinned man with wavy brown hair, nodded drowsily and mouthed what Vash assumed was a thank you.

"The man who just killed those four," he began again, eyeing the corpses lying lifelessly on the cold ground, "he's part of a rather infamous gang. I take it upon myself to apprehend those that break the laws and take away the lives of innocent people or endanger them, like you three," he continued coolly. Anya gazed at him with hopeful eyes. He couldn't help but notice the two women and the man were dressed in rather ragged clothes compared to his rather casual, ironed jeans and his tight-fitting black tee.

"You live in the slums, don't you?" he suddenly asked. The woman with short hair frowned but nodded slowly.

"What's it to you?" she snapped.

"M-Mari…" Anya whispered. Vash sighed, running over the two options in his head. He always saved money, but his job was to help people. These three were poor—immigrants, by the look and sound of it, and he couldn't help but pity him. Deciding to go with the good side of him, he grumbled and cursed at himself inwardly as he dug his wallet out from his back pocket and shuffled through the bunches of US dollars he had crammed into the pathetic, cheap-leather thing. Mari's eyes widened and the man leaned forward with apparent interest. Anya glanced at Vash nervously as he pulled out a couple hundred dollar bills, stepping closer to them.

"Here," he said coldly, stuffing the wad of bills into Mari's arms. All three of the immigrants' eyes widened and stared at the enormous amount of money he'd handed to them—how many hundreds were there? Was this man that rich?

"Th-thank you…" Anya gasped, reaching up with her slender fingers to touch the dollars in awe.

"Don't thank me," Vash replied, whirling around on his heel, cramming his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. "It's my job, after all." He strutted over to the deceased body of the gang member and hoisted him up onto his shoulder, not at all surprised to find the man was particularly bony and lightweight—perhaps anorexic, even. He yanked out his work cellphone from another pocket of his pants as he wandered away from the three survivors, choosing the second number he had on speed dial.

"Boss?" he asked as the phone on the other end picked up on the first ring.

"Vash," a gruff voice replied. "I assume you finished them off?"

"Had to kill one of them," he answered apathetically. "Shot four of them, but three were left surviving. I'm disposing of his body now." There was a bit of silence before he heard a noise of approval from his boss.

"Good. Were you injured by anyone?" he inquired.

"One earlier one managed to graze my right arm with a bullet. I knocked him out rather than killing him, though," he informed.

"Hmm," the other man grumbled. "You're done for today then, Vash. Thank you." He nodded and hung up, arriving at his destination. There were mounds in the ground before him where he'd buried the bodies of law-breakers he'd killed. His usual shovel to dig a grave was propped up against a tree, which he grabbed as he dropped the body onto the ground and began digging an adequate grave for the deceased. Every once in a while, the undertaker of the cemetery in his town—a young man named Alexandru—would drop by and dig the bodies out and give them proper burials in his cemetery, which Vash didn't mind at all.

Finding himself finished faster than usual, he dumped the dead man in and shoveled all the dirt back onto him, completing it with a pat on the soil and returning his shovel to its place against the tree. The Swiss man ran a hand through his blond bangs and thought of his dear little sister waiting at home for him, the thought bringing a genuine smile to his normally stoic face. Casting one last careless glance at the new makeshift grave, he began walking off in the direction of the richer homes, never aware of what was soon to happen in his life.

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**A/N: Well, a prologue…of sorts. I recently got this idea and had the need to write it out. Switzerland being a vigilante/mercenary/whatever makes perfect sense since I believe it was said that he was a mercenary in his past. Plus, he'll do almost anything for money. Mercenary is a word that can be used to describe someone greedy for money. **

**Those three people who hadn't been shot by the gang member were fem!Russia (Anya), fem!Iceland (Mari), and Greece (whose human name is Heracles), though his name was not mentioned in this. Alexandru the undertaker is Romania. Vash's boss…well, you'll find out later. We all also know that Vash's little sister is Liechtenstein, who shall be named Elise in this. I already know who I'm pairing Switzerland and Liechtenstein in this, so don't fret. :P **

**I also thought I should include this: other genres for this are Friendship, Family, Drama, and Humor. I don't think I'll raise the rating since I believe the language and violence is suitable for teenagers and there will be no smut (kissing, yes, but no sex. Sorry for those that like it, but it's just not my thing).**

**Well, tschüss!**

**-Yellow **


End file.
